They huddled under a blanket and sat without talking--bronze sculpture

"They were coming for us, for the Americans. They blame us, for letting them starve. They really believe that everything is still all right here. I did too. No one believed any of the reports. And the mobs were coming for us. We left on a small boat, a skiff. Nineteen of us. They shot at us when we got too near Cuba."
David touched her arm and she jerked and trembled. "Celia, turn around and eat now. Don't talk any longer. Later. You can tell us about it later."
She looked at him and slowly shook her head. "Never again. I'll never mention any of it again, David. I just wanted you to know there was nothing I could do. I wanted to come home and there wasn't any way."
She didn't look quite so blue-cold now, and he watched with relief as she started to eat. She was hungry. He made coffee, the last of his coffee ration.
"You want me to fill you in on anything here?"
She shook her head. "Not yet. I saw Miami, and the people, all trying to get somewhere else, standing in line for days, standing on the trains. They're evacuating Miami. People are falling dead, and they're just leaving them where they fall." She shivered violently. "Don't tell me anything else yet."
The storm was over, and the night air was cool. They huddled under a blanket and sat without talking, drinking hot black coffee. When the cup began to tilt in Celia's hand, David took it from her and gently lowered her to the bed he had prepared. "I love you, Celia," he said softly. "I've always loved you."
"I love you, too, David. Always." Her eyes were closed and her lashes were very black on her white cheeks. David leaned over and kissed her forehead, pulled the blanket higher about her, and watched her sleep for a long time before he lay down beside her and also slept.
During the night she roused once, moaning, twisting about, and he held her until she quieted. She didn't wake up completely, and what words she said were not intelligible.
The next morning they left the oak tree and started for the Sumner farm. She rode Mike until they got to the cart; by then she was trembling with exhaustion and her lips were blue again, although the day was already hot. There wasn't room for her to lie down in the cart, so he padded the back of the wooden seat with his bedroll and blanket, where she could at least put her head back and rest, when the road wasn't too bumpy and the cart didn't jounce too hard. She smiled faintly when he covered her legs with another shirt, the one he had been wearing.